


Sleepwalker

by alianora



Category: Hanazakari no Kimitachi e - Ikemen Paradise | Hana-Kimi (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Written in 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:36:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alianora/pseuds/alianora
Summary: Ficlet. Prompt: Sano/Mizuki, without her





	

The room was quiet now. He wasn't used to it. Even though it had been almost a month since Mizuki had gone back, he still found it strange to lay there in the dark and not hear her breathing.

The first few days she was here, before he ever knew that she was a girl, he had lain there and counted her breaths when he couldn't sleep. After that, it got to be a habit.

After he left home, he struggled to sleep. After he stopped jumping, sleep was almost impossible. But somehow, this weird short kid who asked too many questions and talked to him like they had known each other forever, somehow, he started sleeping when that kid was up in the loft, soft breaths and murmurs floating down to his bed.

Sano wondered if she knew how often he had sat in the dark, listening.

Nakatsu came by during the days, and had even offered to move in, if Sano needed the company. At least, that's what Nakatsu meant, eventually, after babbling about the time difference between the school and California, the price of stationary, and if he thought Nakatsu should send Mizuki pictures of the latest school festival - which had concluded with no clear winner, but had included Dorm 1 attempting to chop down trees with their bare hands.

Sano shook his head, but handed Nakatsu the sealed letter he had stuck under his pillow and asked him to mail it.

Nakatsu turned it over in his hand and given Sano a look that was entirely too keen. "How long after Mizuki left did you write this?"

Sano had shrugged and not answered. The truth was that he had it with him when they went to the airport.

The truth was that he had four more under his bed. One for every week she had been gone.

He spent his days jumping. He spent his nights sitting awake writing letters he might never send, listening for the soft sound of her voice in the dark.

He held his breath, and counted to five, trying to hear all the way to California.

Somehow, he swore he heard her murmur his name in her sleep.

END


End file.
